


Too Fast To Follow

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, F/M, Miscommunication, Thwarted Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: It begins on a quiet night at Wardlow over whisky and draughts. Where will it end? Is love what we perceive, what we imagine or what we fear?





	1. Chapter 1

I must return to work. Duty always calls. But, I will selfishly carve out this space in time and spend it with her. Are we courting? Some day in some future yet unseen, shall we be together? She sits across from me; my senses are filled with her. Only her

Mesmerized by mysterious blue-green eyes. The smoky taste of the single malt she serves me. The sound of the phonograph. The record she chose just to please me. Her perfume an abstract of spice and flower. The lighting and decor in her drawing room a work of art. As she is.

Have we begun to understand each other? Is there a promise yet unspoken? Will I be the only one? The man she prefers?  And, will she stop catting around with old friends and new? Will her driving become less dangerous to herself and others? Perhaps in time a family sedan to replace that red racing car?

Will we pledge our lives and find a surcease to sorrow? Will she soothe and comfort me? Be a wife who is not ashamed of me and my supposed lack of ambition? Will she be proud and accepting of me? And, when we finally climb those stairs together, will we find heaven in each other’s arms?

I will let her undress me and watch her disrobe. She will know what I need and will help me find it. And her. Only her. And, then all the other men will fade from her memory. And, I will be the only one for ever and always. Truly. The bedroom problems will disappear because she will be there. And, I will be able to please her. In ways she’s never known before.

I will be her hero. The strong man and the good boy. I will be under her and allow her to explore. I will lie atop her and give her my all. I will...

“Jack.” A feather light touch on my jacketed arm.

“Huh? What?”

“You were woolgathering again. Your move.” We sit across from each other at a game of draughts. I move a piece absentmindedly. “Ah, ha! Wrong move, Inspector.” She triumphantly cleans up the board. “Another game?”

“No. You’ve bested me again, Miss Fisher.”

“I could do more than that…upstairs. Perhaps a nightcap in the boudoir would be in order? To celebrate my victory?” She teases, cajoles. She looks at me and licks her lips. She seems to inhale my scent from a distance close and yet so far away. She moves slightly on her chair and gives a hint of arousal. She sips the last of her whisky, studying me over the edge of her glass. Attempting to penetrate me with her eyes? To rule me? To own me?

I toss off my drink and stand suddenly. “Perhaps on a night not stacked with reports I must return to? Duty calls.”

“Of course.” She looks disappointed. Hurt. Unhappy. Or, do I just imagine what I see because I so desperately want to see it? Then, she replaces her social mask and rises to show me out. “Good night,  Jack.”

“Pleasant dreams, Miss Fisher.”

As always, I leave and walk to the car. I pull away and circle the block. I park at the cross street and wait. Quite often she will drive by dressed to the nines. Driving quickly with escape in mind? She flies by. Much too fast for me to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

You leave so abruptly. One moment you’re here, the next you’re gone. Do you have some internal clock that warns you when it’s time to go? Your exits are polite, but strange. Or, is that strangely polite? I wonder at times if you are experiencing a physical reaction to my presence and leave in embarrassment?

You know I could help you with that.

What do you think about when you distance yourself from me? Earlier we were playing a game of draughts, having a nightcap, cozy, and pleasant. You are so easy to spend time with in a social setting. You don’t bore me like some others I’ve known.

It is rather disconcerting to wake up after a night of passion and realize that the new man beside you is a dolt. That sounds unkind. I mean, that besides the excitement of the boudoir, if they have no conversation what’s the point of a second encounter?

Jack, where do you go? At times, you are physically present, but mentally absent. Early in our acquaintance I made the mistake of touching you when you ‘escaped’ and I startled you. I made a joke of it, but I am more careful now.

I wait for you to return to the present, if I can. You seem to be involved in some kind of waking dream. A fantasy? Your bloody reports?

Are you telling me the truth when you bolt and run to your reports? Is there someone else? I’ve never thought of that before. Surely you would tell me if there was another. Or would you? Why would you?

I don’t like thinking of you with someone else. That’s ridiculous. We are free to be with whomever we choose. We are modern, liberal-minded people. There, I’m glad I’ve worked that out.

I once believed you might prefer me to any other women. I once thought you would come to me. And, we would find each other in the sanctity of the boudoir. It’s obvious I am not what you want. Though you visit me, drink with me, charm me with your witty conversation, your knowledge of music and books, your scientific mind.

Perhaps that’s it, your scientific mind makes you a cold fish. Who wants that? Who wants a passionless man? Passion for pen and paper, for dotted i’s and crossed t’s. I’ve known you to rewrite a report three times to get it perfect.

No one is perfect, Jack. Not even you.

Do you strive for that to make up for some lack? Some loss? To fill some emptiness? I know about that emptiness, I do. But, I try not to dwell. The abyss is so very deep and unescapable. Once within, how does one escape?

I fear for you. I want to keep you safe.

What do I know of you? When I asked about those torn trousers some time ago, you deflected my questions. I was worried about your safety, but you would not allow that. Where is the equality in that?

Sometimes I think I don’t know you at all. Where do you run to? Both in your mind and when you bolt from my home. Must you live so much in your head? Can’t you say what you feel? I know you mean what you say when you say it. But, so much of you is in the unsaid. And, you call me a mystery?

What are you running from? What are you running to?

You move so fast, I find it hard to follow. You call yourself a plodder. That’s a ploy to cause others to underestimate you. I fell for it when I first knew you. But, I see now, how you use your deliberation to fool people. You are so open with Mac. I envy that. You don’t hold back or constantly edit yourself.

But you don’t love her, do you? But, what good is love without touch, without passion, without having all the senses engaged?

Well, the night is young, Jack Robinson and so am I. Flee to your reports and your warm milk and Zane Grey novels. What a pill, an ancient, a stick in the mud. Oh, I weary of this topic. I’m going upstairs and putting on some daring dress. And, then I’m going out to be with people.

I’ll drink too much. I’ll laugh too loud. I’ll dance with handsome men. And, if I choose, I’ll bring one home with me.

It’s obvious, you would rather play with a pen and paper while I simply want to play. Too serious by half, too conscientious. Do you think anyone will love you because you wrote a flawless report? Will all your caution keep you warm at night?

I can’t think about you another minute. When I leave this house, you are no longer a part of my heart, my concern, my worry. I have my own life to lead. And, lead my life I will.

Where do you go, when you escape? You move so fast, I can’t follow.


	3. Chapter 3

There she goes. Speeding by. I should stop her and issue a ticket. What’s the point? She just ignores them. Maybe I should follow at a distance to see where she goes. My guess is that disreputable jazz club. I’ve warned her about it. But does she listen?

She’s disappeared. Damn. She must have seen me. I’ll drive to the club and look for her car. And then leave. Just to be sure she arrived safely.

Why do I do this? Why do I shadow her and worry about what she’s doing and who she is with? I’ll park here and rest a bit. It’s truly exhausting trying to be an anchor to a free-wheeling flapper. If I close my eyes for a few seconds and pull down my hat, I can take five and then move on. I feel so old and tired. Am I?  Maybe I’ll take a few minutes and think about…think about…

 

 Is someone following me? That car behind me. Was it there before? Clever methods of evasion are called for. This alley looks like a good place to wait and see who drives by.

The car looks familiar.  And, that looks like a certain Inspector that I know. Why is he following me?

There he goes. Drove right past me at his usual snail’s pace. Is he looking for me?

No matter. I’m free of him and ready to enjoy myself at this so-called ‘disreputable’ club. Nothing like a little hot jazz to make me forget. All I want to do is fly! I won’t be tethered to the ground by any man.

Where did he go? Maybe that wasn’t him. I thought it was him. I can hear the music. I’m going inside.

Wait. Is that his car?

That is his car. Is he asleep?

Why is her napping in his car outside the club? I want to have a good time. I don’t want to worry about him sleeping the bloody car. He’ll get that stiff neck again. Which I could help, but god forbid, I’d suggest a massage. No, no, suffer. See if I care.

I’m going inside and having some fun. I am. I am. I don’t appear to be moving, however. And, neither does he.

My god, is he hurt? Perhaps I should go over and see. I’ll just walk by his car casually. Like so. Perhaps humming a tune to appear totally unconcerned? La-de-da, I’m just strolling around taking some air after sodding midnight.

I’m all dressed up to go clubbing and instead I’m pretending not to be worried about some stubborn man, who never gives me a second thought. This is charming. I am really not in the mood for this. He’d better be breathing, or I’m going to be seriously upset. Right. I’ll just take quick peek like so and…

 “What? Huh? Oh. Phryne, why are you creeping around like that?”

 “I wasn’t. I’m breaking in new shoes. Why are you following me?”

“Because… I wasn’t… I don’t know…who says? why? Where are we?  I need to sleep.”

“Jack, I am getting in this car. Now, put that hat back over your eyes. You will please me by resting.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Shh. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when five minutes have gone by.”

 

I close my eyes. I can feel her beside me. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s close by. She’s humming a little tune. Like a lullaby? No, she wouldn’t do that, would she? The world stopped whirling, the gods stopped hurling their uncaring arrows against sinless soldiers, soldiers mud sodden, dauntless, danger, a beautiful woman who I savor, savior, love her, love her, fancy flier, too fast to follow. Sleep now.

Your career is your mistress. If I loved you, how could I compete? Always on the move. So driven. Too fast to follow. Now sleep.


End file.
